


He Keeps Me Warm

by jazzypizzaz



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (basically Garak is more lizard-like), Cardassian Anatomy, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8955319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: Julian breaks into Garak's quarters and waits to surprise him, a romantic gesture that his paranoid lizard boyfriend is sure to love!(a Secret Santa gift for meettheghost)





	

With a sly smile, Julian peeks his head around the corner then sneaks down the habitat ring corridor.  

Garak has spent many an evening in Julian's quarters.  Several times a week, he sits on Julian’s couch, drinking hot rossaka juice and complaining about the finer points of Julian’s recommended Shakespeare play of the week, until Julian with a few well-timed touches and slips of his pajama neckline manages to distract Garak towards more carnal pursuits.  

Garak, however, has never invited Julian to _his_ private space, despite Julian’s insistence.  And now Julian aims to correct that.

After several months, Julian is pretty sure he’s managed to piece together all the information necessary to break into Garak’s room.  

It’s taken numerous probing questions that Garak expertly talks around, and constant flat out denials that he’s even avoiding having Julian over, but now Julian has figured out that Garak has been giving him the pieces to the puzzle all along: 1) Garak’s room number is listed under the name of a minor character from a novel he recommended to Julian months ago, while the quarters under his own name are empty; 2) the keycode to Garak’s door change at sporadic intervals, but likely correlate to page numbers and the locations of specific quotations Garak brings up on their lunch dates; 3) other booby traps preventing access Julian suspects he can disable using the surveillance techniques Garak has been teaching him all along.

Now, finally, tonight is the night.

Breaking into an ex-Obsidian Order operative’s private quarters to ambush him could be dangerous if not foolhardy, as well as presumptuous, of this Julian is well aware even if said operative _is_ his boyfriend.  On the other hand any secrets Garak wants to keep hidden he does so expertly, under so many internal locks and labyrinths that Julian isn’t even sure _Garak_ knows the full truth about his own self anymore.  

(Garak would contend of course that there is no such thing as truth, but that’s a contemplation for another time.)

Heart pounding with anticipation, darting glances left and right down the corridor, Julian finds his way in and makes himself at home.  He waits.

\----------

Garak whistles a bit, pulling on his sleeves, subconsciously trying to preserve heat as best he can.  He really ought to rent time at the sauna rocks program at least twice a week (after the incident with his wire, Quark even offered a small discount), for his health and happiness.  The times in between however, once the cold settles in completely seeping beneath the several layers of thermal fabrics down to his bones, the thought of that chill melting away is too much to overcome; that the pleasantness and warmth will only remind him how bitter he finds the cold overwhelms his common sense to the contrary.

True enough, Garak never regrets giving in to the warmth when he finally surrenders to his desire, however.

Loose-limbed and more relaxed than he’s felt in weeks, Garak plods softly out from the holosuites to the habitat ring.  He’d meant to finish a pair of trousers he’d been hemming back at the shop, but now all he wants is to curl up in bed with one of Iloja of Prim’s more obscure poetry collections and doze off.

Thoughts of the coziness and contentment that await him distract Garak so much that he ignores the creeping seventh sense of _something isn’t right_ (a sense all former spies integrate as second nature) until the door closes behind him.

Once Garak realizes this mistake -- damn this station and its chill -- he freezes in place.

Tentatively Garak flicks out his tongue, tasting the air.   _Musky, salty, a hint of lye_.  Ahh, yes, so it’s a mammal who has broken in, the scent fresh enough that the intruder is probably still here.  Human most likely, although there’s enough margin of error with Bajorans that he’s not sure.  Garak flicks his tongue again.  The soap, indicating a freshly showered trespasser, covers any more unique smells, but gives away that they use the standard type from the replicators.  

Whoever it is is a resident of the station.

Without further delay, Garak shucks off his shoes and scuttles up the wall, elbows and knees bowed outwards.  This should give him an advantage over most floor-bound mammals.  In his mind he flashes through accounts of locals that he keeps regular tabs on -- people that might want him dead or would benefit from extracting specific information from him or just would plain want to cause trouble -- but the list is too long, and he’s too panicked to narrow it down effectively without further information.  Hugging the surface of the ceiling close, his tail whipping back and forth, he soundlessly slips between rooms, continuing to taste the trail of the intruder with his tongue, on guard for any vibrations that would give away their position.

Once Garak makes it to the bedroom the smell becomes stronger and in the darkness he can make out the shape of a thin person under the covers of his bed.  The scales on Garak’s neck harden, protruding outwards into a defensive spiny frill, in preparation for whom he will find and how sharp their teeth might be.  The person below him is still and silent, unaware of Garak’s presence, their breathing regular though muffled.

Garak [ loops his tail ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/420664421417506296/) around a darkened light fixture on the ceiling, then drops the rest of himself down abruptly.  He pins the person’s bony shoulders to the bed, his [ mouth open wide ](https://stormhawks2013.wikispaces.com/AM) as he hisses into their face.  His venom sacks click automatically, but spit nothing out -- they're vestigial and thus don’t produce anything dangerous on their own, but in the recent softness of his exile, Garak hasn’t filled them with venom from his black market source for months now.  Just his luck.

The person screams and screams, flailing underneath Garak’s hands, so Garak drops the rest of his body down, pinning the person completely.  Garak [ shrieks ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Q_1KW0Q-10)in the person’s face.

“Who are you?  What do you want?”

“Aaaaahhhh!  Garak!  Garak it’s me! AAahhhhhh!”

The incongruous familiarity of the voice filters through Garak’s tense reaction, and he freezes in place, crouched on top of the intruder.  Garak’s eyes finish adjusting completely to the darkness, and now that he’s up close he can recognize the long dark lashes blinking rapidly as they frame those large beautiful eyes.

“Gah-rak,” Julian chuckles, drawing the word out with fondness.  His muscles relax under Garak’s tense hands.  Julian cranes his head up, and he can’t quite reach Garak’s shocked face, so he gently kisses one of the hardened frilly scales on his neck.

“Salty,” Julian smirks, licking his lips.  “You’ve been at the sauna.”

A soft smile slithers onto Garak’s face, and he relaxes, settling down so that he covers Julian completely -- arm to arm, legs on legs, belly to belly -- soaking up all the warmth of his hot-blooded lover through the thin blanket between them.

“And here I thought you'd never stop by. Careful my dear doctor, don’t get too close.  I’m still sharp.  You could cut yourself,” he says, lazy and languid, but a hint of genuine warning runs underneath his voice.

“Oh, my dear Garak, I don’t mind a bit of danger.  I’m a frontier doctor; a madcap adventurer; a buccaneer of your heart, as it were, so I do think I’ll take my chances.”  To prove his point, Julian again kisses at Garak’s neck.

“Well, _I’m_ not!  I’m but a simple merchant, wishing nothing more than to go to bed early, and what do I come home to?  A trespasser, waiting in the dark for me, possibly armed and violent!”  Garak inundates his voice with simpering fake outrage.  “Who knows what could have happened?  Why, in my fright, I could have lost my tail!  It would take _months_ to grow back; you don’t want _that_ on your conscience.”

“And as your doctor, you should know I couldn’t bear to let that happen.”

Julian, his Julian, smirks up at Garak, and this time when he leans upwards, Garak meets him halfway.  They kiss, long and slow, the heat between them building gradually, like the rising spring sun as it melts away the winter.  

Garak will never quite become fully acclimated to the pleasantness of warmth, but with Julian he gives in, cherishing how it burns away the chill of his exile, at least for now.


End file.
